"Puppet Master"
Chapter Twelve -"Taking the Stage"
By: Purpleu
Everyone in the room stood or sat in stunned silence, their mouths agape. House, who had been standing behind Foreman, blindly reached to his right for the chair that was there and sat down. Finally the silence was broken by Jeanne Hunter.
"Jeff, what's the matter? What's going on?" she asked. She had stopped moving the water bottle and without the distraction, Tyler became agitated; he started to laugh and the laughter became more intense as the seconds passed. Then the hand flapping and the arm waving began. Foreman quickly responded to Tyler's actions.
"Mrs. Hunter, please keep moving the water bottle for Tyler; we're not finished with the test yet and if he moves around too much, it will negate the results."
"I'm sorry," she said and quickly resumed pacifying her son with the half empty bottle. Everyone in the room was looking at House who sat motionless, staring at the floor.
"You can give me the gory details when we get into my office in a little bit," he said finally as he looked at his watch. "But in general outline form, what is that SOB planning?"
"Remember when he was here a few months ago and he told Dr. Cuddy that you would be living in a box because you wouldn't be able to practice medicine? He intends on making that come true," Davidson said.
"What? How the hell is he going to do that?" demanded Wilson. Davidson shook his head.
"You have no idea the lengths he is going to in order to pull this off," he said. House stood up.
"I wouldn't put anything past that mother…" House stopped himself; he knew if he continued it would be nothing more than a barrage of obscenities coming out of him, which would serve no purpose at the moment. He took a deep breath. "Are you almost finished with the test?" he said to Foreman.
"I need another five or ten minutes; I want to make sure the printouts are clear and then we can bring Tyler back to his room." House nodded and looked at Taub.
"Did you contact Dr. Lindeman's group?"
"Yes, I'm waiting for them to return my message," he said as he took a Munchkin out of the box.
"Leave some of those for the pigeons," ordered House. "I'm figuring that Hunter's going to bring his stench around here at some point today; any idea what time?" he asked Davidson.
"He's got a pretty full schedule today; he has a breakfast meeting at eight-thirty in Manhattan, then a court appearance at one, an appeals court hearing at two-thirty and a speaking engagement at a Bar Association dinner in Trenton that starts at six-thirty."
"So, he's going to be squeezing it in to show up here." Davidson nodded.
"Today it's a go, go, go day."
"I'm glad you know all that," Jeanne Hunter said. "It's more than what he tells me."
"Do you really care?" House asked. Mrs. Hunter sighed.
"No; I just like to know so I can avoid him." House grimly shook his head and turned to his team.
"Finish up with the kid, get him back to his room and give him something to keep him calm while mom's at our meeting. Don't overdo it in case someone from Lindeman's group wants to come in and start an evaluation; I want them to get a true picture of what the kid does and doesn't do so they can best recommend what kind of treatments he needs." He turned to Davidson.
"If you had to take a guess, when would you say Hunter's going to make his grand entrance? Between eleven-thirty and twelve or between four-thirty and five?"
"I would say between eleven-thirty and twelve. It still gives him enough time for his usual three martini lunch."
"I think I could use one of those myself today. Come up when you're finished here." House said directing the comment to all in the room. "I'll be in my office." He walked out of the lab, toward the elevators.
"Can Hunter really do what you said before?" asked Wilson. "I mean, House has done nothing wrong…recently."
"That's just it," Davidson said, "recently. But there have been enough times in the past when he has done things that have fallen through the cracks or been very quietly swept under the rug. Medical records aren't the only data that's kept on a doctor's work here or at any hospital. There are records kept on how many lawsuits have been filed against them and how much have they cost the hospital in legal fees and settlements. If you look at Dr. House's file, it doesn't paint a pretty picture; but he still has brought in more money in donations and grants than he costs the hospital. That being said, the black marks are still there. And it's exactly those things that Malcolm is counting on to catch up with Dr. House and ruin him." Wilson and the team let out a collective sigh.
"If you'll excuse me, I want to talk with House," Wilson said. "I'll see you in the conference room." He hurried past Davidson to try and catch up to House; for someone with a cane and a bum leg, he sure could move when he wanted to, thought Wilson. As he pushed his way through a set of double doors, Wilson could see House waiting by the elevators, pacing back and forth, clearly pissed.
"Hey," Wilson said as he approached.
"I don't need a babysitter," House said angrily pushing the button again.
"I never said you did; but if you don't calm down, you won't think clearly and you'll do something stupid that you're going to regret. You've got your team; you've got me. For what that's worth, I think you're in a much better position that someone like Hunter could ever be." The elevator doors opened and House and Wilson had to step aside to let an orderly wheeling a gurney pass. They entered the car and House pushed the button for the fourth floor.
"You know, I'm really glad you said that," House said as he looked up at the numbers ticking off for the floors passing by. "Do me a favor: come visit me at my box warming party along the side of the road and repeat that to me; it'll give me a mantra to chant in the small hours of the morning when the roar of the traffic flow has lessened and I need something to help me fall asleep." The elevator arrived at the floor for House's office and he quickly exited as soon as the doors opened. Wilson followed closely behind.
"House, you are not going to wind up homeless and Hunter's not going to stop you from practicing medicine. We're going to know what he's up to before he acts; Davidson just gave us an inkling as to what Hunter's scheme is, he told us after you left the room." House stopped walking and looked at Wilson. "Davidson said that even though you bring in a lot of money to the hospital in grants and donations, you've had a lot of lawsuits filed against you over the years; there are things that have been kept quiet that are going to come back and bite you." House looked down the hallway, away from Wilson.
"Cuddy ran interference plenty of times over the years, but she always said she took care of it so that neither one of us would have to worry; her firm little tukus was on the line too, and she wasn't about to take a fall just for me," said House. "I wonder if there were things she didn't take care of nearly as well as she thought she did."
"Let's face it; we're discovering that the finances of the hospital aren't as rosy as we thought they were; who knows what else wasn't handled well." Wilson started to walk away and then stopped. "Damn! I feel like such a shumuck bad mouthing Cuddy like that," Wilson said as he looked at House with guilt in his eyes.
"Whether Cuddy was standing here defending herself or sitting in a wheelchair with drool slowly dripping down her chin, facts are facts; if she screwed something up, then she screwed it up. No amount of guilt is going to change that." House's cell phone began to vibrate indicating an incoming call. He pulled it out and took a look; it was Lydia. "What the hell does she want?" House muttered out loud.
"Hi, what's up?" he said flatly as he answered the phone.
"Hi, sorry to bother you, but you left part of the files on the floor by the bed. I spotted them when I was changing the sheets."
"Crap! I need to give Foreman the complete file to take to the meeting he has later this morning." House narrowed his eyes. "Is there any way you could bring them to me? Or maybe I could send someone over…"
"Greg," Lydia interrupted, "I'm in the lobby. I didn't want to appear pushy and go upstairs right to your office door." House closed his eyes and actually allowed a small smile to form on his lips. He should have known that she would bring him the file immediately.
"I'll have Wilson come down and get you. Do you have a minute or do you have to get ready for the first interview?"
"I have time; I got done as quickly as I could after I found the file. I left the bed a bit of a mess, but I can stop back home later and finish changing it." House liked the way Lydia referred to his apartment as 'home'; he just hoped it would continue to be.
"OK, Wilson's on his way down. See you in a minute or two." Wilson had already started to walk away from House and head to the elevators. "Hey, wuss," House shouted in Wilson's direction. Wilson turned around, a puzzled expression on his face. "Don't keep a lady waiting; take the stairs." Wilson was about to say something, but then stopped himself and headed to the stairway.
House walked down the hall to the water fountain at the end. A woman was there trying to help a little boy get a drink. She held him up in her arms and encouraged him to press the button to make the water jump up; more than once, he got too close and laughed as the water squirted him in the face. After a minute, the two walked away hand in hand. House closed his eyes and wished he had the strength to ask his mother about his childhood, why she had let things happen the way they did. If she had stepped in, maybe things would be different; maybe he wouldn't dislike most people so much and maybe they wouldn't dislike him. Maybe he'd actually care what people thought and maybe Malcolm Hunter wouldn't be trying to ruin his life right now.
He stepped over to the fountain, took a drink and turned to go back to his office; as he did, he felt a weight lift at least part way off his shoulders as he saw Lydia standing by his office door. If he didn't have her right now, he knew without a doubt, that Vicodin would once again be his best friend.
"I didn't want to tread on sacred ground without a proper escort," she said with a smile, indicating House's office and the conference room.
"Wilson just dumped you here and ran? I'm going to have a talk with that boy about the proper way to treat a woman," House said as he drew near. He gave Lydia a kiss and pushed open the door to his office. She hesitated as she passed the door itself to take a look at what was etched on it: Gregory House, M.D., Department of Diagnostics. A department he had started; a branch of study he had advanced to help so many. She reached her hand up to touch the letters on the door.
"Your father was so wrong," she said softly.
"So was yours," he answered. Lydia shook her head and pointed to the words on the door. She turned to say something to House, but he had his head down looking away from her. Lydia realized she embarrassed him and moved to a chair in front of his desk; she sat down, put her black leather messenger bag on the floor and quickly changed the subject.
"James left because I told him to go call Annie; she was asking me this morning if she should be bold and ask James if he would like to 'get together' for a cup of coffee; I told her to be patient that I was quite sure an invitation was coming her way." House smiled.
"Awww…doesn't it feel good getting those two crazy kids together?" he said sarcastically, obviously relieved at the different route the conversation was taking.
"Greg, you know what a huge step that was for Annie to even think about asking a man to meet her, even for something as simple as coffee. I am so thrilled, seeing her act unafraid…it's wonderful," Lydia said with a huge smile on her face. House nodded in agreement.
"Speaking of java, want some?" he asked holding up his cup.
"No, thank you. I managed to get two cups into me since you left; anymore and I'll be playing trills instead of runs on the piano." She looked around his office. "You have an interesting collection of decorations in here." She stood up and picked up his oversized tennis ball. "Is the racket that goes with this proportionate in size?"
"I always thought so," House said pulling her toward him for a hug. "What's your opinion?"
"Well, since I still think of things in terms of centimeters rather than inches, my evaluation may be slightly skewered," she said with an impish gleam in her eye. House put his index finger up to his lips.
"Shhh; I won't tell anyone if you don't." He gave her a kiss and turned to head to the conference room for his coffee. Lydia followed behind him and paused to look at different medical reference books that lined the shelves. She picked one up and began to page through, stopping several times to read passages from the book. House watched her as she nodded her head on more than one occasion, seeming as if she was saying, "I remember now…"
"You miss it," he said.
"So much so that it hurts," she admitted. "I knew that I would inevitably wind up coming here and seeing your office, the conference room; but I'm remembering all the different cases you told me about and I can just see you and your team sitting here, discussing symptoms, diseases, evaluating and interpreting test results, treatment methods, all that goes with being a doctor. I…" Lydia couldn't find the words to properly convey the despair she felt at failing to complete the work she needed to do in order to go on to medical school. She walked to the head of the conference table at the end near House's office and sat down.
"I know you are an ivory tickler beyond compare; well maybe with one small bit of competition," House noted. Lydia was too down to even deliver a comeback right now. "You love kids; I can tell you're a great mother. I'm sure you'll be a great teacher; but this is what you want. Being with me, you're going to be exposed to this more and more; if you don't take steps to do something about it, it's going to eat you up."
"What am I supposed to do? Walk in here and say, 'Hi, what's the next case, I'm here to help.' Your team may resent it or treat me with kid gloves; that's the last thing I would want."
"True, but if once in a while you sat down and listened to what we were talking about, contributed, it might be enough of a refresher course for you to feel that you could handle this." Lydia looked at House; he had to keep from smiling as he saw that same steely look in her eyes that he saw last night when they were discussing her father's doubts over her abilities.
"I know I can handle this," she said. "The question is how. There is only one of me and twenty four hours in a day." House let out a sigh.
"Let me get past what's going on with Hunter and make sure I still have this for you to make use of. I promise you I'll be as hard on you, if not harder, than I would any of my team, no special treatment; I don't care how much you'd try to bribe me with your body." Lydia gave him a look. "OK, that's not true; I'd fold like an origami swan." She finally was able to laugh.
"How is it you always know how to make me happy?" Lydia asked as she reached for House's hand. She stood up and House gave her a gentle hug.
"I'm not sure; I just hope I can keep it going," he said brushing his hand along her cheek. House brought his fingers under her chin and was moving in to kiss her, when he heard the voices of Wilson and his team coming down the hall. "Damn! Forgot to lock the bedroom door," he said as he backed up from Lydia. She leaned forward and gave him a fast kiss.
"A quickie is better than nothing," she said seeing House's surprised expression.
"Hey, Lydia," Chase said as he entered the room. He sat down at the table with his coffee cup and various piles of papers.
"Good morning," said Taub who was carrying the remnants of the Munchkins. He set the box down near the coffee maker and took a seat.
"Morning." Foreman nodded in Lydia's direction as he went over to the coffee machine and poured himself a cup. Wilson and Thirteen were the last to enter the room.
"Hi," Thirteen said. She stopped and did a double take as she looked at Lydia. "Wow, you look really nice. Going somewhere special?"
"I have two interviews today," Lydia said. "One is a second interview at the school I was at on Monday and the other is the Waldorf School."
"I couldn't tell when you spoke yesterday whether you were a teacher or in medicine," Taub said.
"Officially, I'm a teaching assistant; the rest of it is a bit of a complicated story," she said. In short order, she related her educational journey from Hopkins until now. "So, it's a matter of finding a place that needs an assistant teacher in music. I think the concentration I did in special ed will help, too."
"That's how you knew it was Angelman's," noted Chase.
"I didn't know it was Angelman's; Greg did," she said gesturing at House with her head.
"Not until you did your happy puppet dance," House said as he went into his office.
"I guess your new nickname is 'Pinocchio'," Thirteen said, smiling. Lydia shrugged.
"I like the sound of 'Fraulein' better." She looked into the hallway and saw Jeanne Hunter and Jeffrey Davidson approaching. "I think the other people you need to start your meeting have arrived." Everyone turned to look at the door as it opened and the pair walked in; Lydia slipped into House's office to pick up her bag.
"Here, I haven't even given you the report yet," Lydia said quietly as she removed the paperwork from her bag and handed it to House.
"Thanks; I've got to get the rest of it from Chase and Wilson so Foreman has a complete set to bring with him to his meeting." House looked into the conference room and noticed that Mrs. Hunter looked very agitated and definitely not a happy camper. "What the hell has set her off?" Lydia glanced over her shoulder.
"She's crying, poor thing. This must be so hard on her, between dealing with her son's condition and what would appear to be the final unraveling of her marriage…"
"I have no sympathy; she's the one who chose to marry and stay with the bastard," he said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, House wanted to kick himself. He could see that Lydia had closed her eyes and was biting her bottom lip. "I didn't mean that."
"Yes, you did." She opened her eyes and looked at House; he regretted what he had said even more. "We…we can talk about it later. You'd better put that away with the other copy you have of the report," she said as she swung her bag onto her shoulder. House was about to say something, when the words 'other copy' jumped out at him. He walked past Lydia and into the conference room.
"I don't suppose when you busy little beavers were making copies of the report that he," House said indicating Davidson, "brought us that you thought to change the 'copies selected' button to two?" Chase, Taub and Thirteen looked at each other.
"No, you only said to make a copy," Chase said. "You didn't say anything about multiples."
"And when you order a Big Mac, the acne riddle teenager behind the counter knows it makes sense to put two all-beef patties on the bun," House said.
"Why do we need two copies?" asked Wilson.
"Because we're going to send Henry Kissinger out to roam the streets of town with the report," explained House, indicating Foreman. We're going to get another copy of it eventually but this is all we've got for now."
"How are you going to get another copy?" Davidson asked.
"She," said House as he nodded his head at Jeanne, "is going to exercise her rights, both as a mother and a founding member of the law firm's incorporation."
"I'm not sure what you mean by that, Dr. House. I have nothing to do with my husband law firm." House got a little annoyed at her lack of understanding.
"When you form a corporation, you need three people. For jerkface's practice it was him, you and your father. Therefore, you are entitled to certain rights and privileges including going into his office and removing the medical records of your son that he's hiding there." Jeanne shook her head slowly.
"I never signed or authorized any such thing," she said. "My father would never sign something like that either; he hates Malcolm, he never approved of our marriage, he didn't attend our wedding." Everyone in the room looked at each other, not sure what to make of what Jeanne Hunter was saying.
"Ten years ago you never signed incorporation papers, never went before a notary," House asked. "Your name before you got married was Carmichael?"
"Yes, that was my maiden name; but ten years ago, Malcolm and I had just started dating. I certainly would have never signed anything like that." There was a momentary quiet in the room.
"That son-of-a-bitch!" exclaimed Jeffrey Davidson. Jeanne had dropped her head into her hands and was motionless as Davidson rubbed her back.
"Looks like we've found another bunch of lies we can nail the weasel with. Wilson, Chase; get me the copies of the files that you took home last night. We've got to figure out how to clone them in the next two hours," said House.
"I put them on your desk when I came up here with Lydia," Wilson said. Chase stood up and took a bundle of papers from the stack in front of him and walked them into House's office.
"We can't use the copy machines around the hospital," Thirteen said. "It would be too obvious and someone's bound to question it."
"With our luck, it will be the wrong someone and the wrong question," observed House. "Is there a copy machine in Cuddy's office? That'd be the perfect little hideaway to pull this off."
"Cuddy never had anything as extravagant as her own copy machine in there; there was no need for it," Foreman said.
"There was no need for her to have leather sofas and mahogany paneling, yet there it is, for all to behold and see," House said.
"You have a copy machine in your office." House turned at the sound of Lydia's voice; despite Wilson mentioning her a minute ago, he had forgotten she was in the room. Chase, who was exiting House's office, seemed surprised.
"I'm missing something," Chase said looking over his shoulder. "Where is there a copy machine?" House smiled as he realized what Lydia was referring to.
"The printer on my computer has the ability to make copies. It'll be slower, but it'll work," he said going back into his office, sitting down at his desk and checking the ink level on his printer.
"Which one of us do you want to pull away from this meeting to do the copying?" Taub asked. House let out a sigh of frustration as he stared at the floor. Taub had a point. He needed everyone to understand the approach they were going to take with things in reference to Hunter; depending on what Davidson had to tell them about Hunter's nefarious plans that approach may change.
"I can make the copies." House picked his head up and looked at Lydia.
"You have your interviews to go to," he said as he stood up.
"I received a message this morning right before I called you. They asked me to push it back until eleven-thirty. Since my next interview isn't until two, there's no problem; I can make the copies," she said looking House straight in the eye. He looked away and nodded as Lydia walked past him to sit down at his desk. She started to flip through the files, frowning as she did so. "Ultimately, you want a second copy of this in its entirety, which you're going to get; but for now, to save time, couldn't you just take copies of the most pertinent parts of the files to the other meeting?" she asked looking up at House. Foreman heard what Lydia said and rose from his seat to join House and Lydia in House's office.
"We could just copy the summary from the pediatrician who diagnosed the CP, the therapists' evaluations and recommendations; then jump forward to the accident and whatever reports came from that and finally the report summary written by Winken, Blinken and Nod. Any test printouts should be copied, too," stated House. He became aware of Foreman standing by the door. "Works for you?" House said acknowledging his presence.
"Sounds good; as long as we're giving him the highlights, I think it should be enough." Lydia took the reports and began to pull out the summaries and test results House had mentioned. "By the way," Foreman said dropping his voice down, "someone from Lindeman's team approached Mrs. Hunter and started talking about autism and Angelman's and she got really upset."
"I was wondering what turned on the faucet," said House in the same quiet voice. "Talking this over is going to be more fun than a barrel full of marmosets."
"Don't you mean monkeys?" Lydia asked as she pushed the button to start making the first copy.
"You choose your primate, I'll choose mine. Here's the last of what you're going to need to copy," House said laying a pile of papers near Lydia and moving the rest into a manila envelope and putting them in his desk drawer. He turned and nodded to Foreman.
"Be right in." Foreman headed back to his seat at the conference table. House leaned over Lydia who was moving the copy making along as quickly as she could.
"Thank you; I'm sure you don't feel like doing this, especially after I stuck my foot in my mouth up to my kneecap." Lydia didn't look at him as she continued with her work.
"I am neither petty nor vindictive," she said. "I am not happy with what you said before; I'm hurt. But I know you didn't say it to deliberately hurt me or push me away. It is your opinion and you are entitled to it." She finally turned to look at House. "I love you. More than I've ever loved anyone. It's going to take a hell of a lot more than one myopic opinion to change that fact. Now go tell Mrs. Hunter what her son's situation is. I'll bring these in as soon as I'm done." She turned her back to him and continued to fiddle with the report, trying to get it back into chronological order. House stood motionless behind Lydia for a moment; if he didn't love and admire her before this, he sure as hell did now. He leaned down and brought his mouth next to her ear.
"Ich liebe dich," he whispered softly and without waiting for her reply, turned and headed into the conference room which has been buzzing with chatter while he was in with Lydia. House walked over to one of the white boards; he realized he hadn't needed to ask Wilson to bring the others into the room, but he wasn't sure what they were dealing with when this started yesterday afternoon.
"Here's where things stand with our patient…" House said in a loud voice to get everyone's attention as he picked up a marker.
"Tyler," Thirteen interjected, giving a sideways glance to Jeanne Hunter.
"Tyler," House repeated. "We've confirmed a diagnosis of cerebral palsy; your pediatrician made note of it, attributing low muscle tone and developmental delays to the disease." House had written the number one and CP after it on the board. "We also noted two other abnormalities coinciding with CP that provided additional confirmation: flat feet and hands." He listed all the symptoms under "CP."
"I was aware of the flat feet," Mrs. Hunter said, "Tyler's worn a maximum orthotic since he was two; I never noticed the flat hands."
"Is that why he has trouble holding a pencil or a crayon?" Davidson asked.
"And why he can't feed himself, dress himself or hold his wienie straight when he tries to pee," House said.
"He wears a diaper," Jeanne said.
"Because he can't hold his wienie straight," agreed House.
"He was doing well with the therapies he was receiving," Chase said. "It's shame they were stopped prematurely; many of the difficulties he experiences with everyday tasks could have been lessened if they had continued. Why did the therapies stop?" Mrs. Hunter dropped her eyes down so as to avoid the questioning looks of the team.
"Malcolm didn't think he was making any progress and refused to pay for them anymore. He wouldn't submit the bills through insurance, and since he was the policy holder, I had no recourse. He thought that the therapists were babying him; when Tyler couldn't perform a simple task, the therapists would be very gentle and encouraging. My husband…would get furious, yell and scream…it was awful." An awkward silence hung in the air as Jeanne Hunter began to cry.
"Excuse me, Dr. House?" House quickly turned and looked at his office at the sound of Lydia's voice. "Your printer's run out of paper; where can I get some more?" House managed not to smile at Lydia calling him "Dr. House."
"I have some extra paper in my office; I'll go get it," Wilson offered. Jeanne was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue as she turned to look at Lydia.
"So, I see your husband makes you address him formally when he's at work, just like mine does," she said speaking to Lydia. Wilson, who had started to rise up to get the copy paper, froze midway to standing; the expressions on everyone's faces, a perfect blend of shock and amusement, were beyond compare. Even House, who was rarely left without something to say, was rendered speechless; only Lydia had the composure to answer Jeanne without laughing.
"I'm not Dr. House's wife; I'm his girlfriend," she said. Jeanne put a hand up to her mouth, embarrassed at her mistake.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume anything; it's just the feeling that I got from watching the two of you."
"Nah," House said recovering sufficiently to speak. "I don't hate her enough to marry her. Actually, I don't believe in the institution of marriage; there's a reason why they call it an institution."
"I've been married," said Lydia, "and I'm not so sure I believe in it anymore, either. So, we're a good match, in that respect." She glanced quickly over at House and smiled. Looking back at Wilson who had straightened up, but hadn't moved, she asked, "Dr. Wilson, you said you had paper?"
"Yes, I'm sorry, I'll be right back." He left the conference room and moved quickly down the hall to his office.
"So, continuing with your son, we have problem number two," said House as he wrote the two and the words "autism/Angelman's Syndrome" on the board. "The EEG, the test we just did, looks at your son's brain waves, their amplitudes, their peaks and spikes. The tests done at St. James Hospital confirmed that the patterns presented are consistent with a diagnosis of autism; except when they wrote the report that was given to the court and to us, it magically transformed into a dung heap."
"What is Angelman's Syndrome? I've never heard of it," Davidson said.
"Most people haven't; it has a very low prevalence rate, about one in every twenty-five thousand," said Foreman. "My specialty is neurology and other than discussing it briefly in med school, I've never actually dealt with a case that concerns Angelman's." The rest of the team all agreed that they had never had a case before.
"Neither have I," admitted House. Wilson walked quietly back into the room, sensing things were at a critical point; he handed the paper to Lydia and went back over to his seat. "Years ago, the disease was called Happy Puppet Syndrome; then when things became all politically correct and we weren't allowed to give an accurate description of the patient's appearance and behavior, the name was changed to Angelman's Syndrome after an English pediatrician, Dr. Henry Angelman who first noticed the behaviors associated with the disease."
"What causes it? Is it genetic?" asked Jeanne Hunter, her voice quivering.
"The problem lies on chromosome fifteen; a normal person receives two copies, one from the mother, one from the father. In the region of the chromosome that's critical to Angelman's, the maternal contribution is lost or mutated. There is another way the maternal contribution is suppressed and that would be if the paternal copy takes over and mutes the maternal; which given the nature of the person donating the paternal chromosome, would not be a surprise in this case." Jeanne Hunter was shaking as the tears rolled down her cheeks.
"This is my fault; not only did I give him this disease, I chose a bastard of a man for his father, who is going to give him no support, no help and no love." Jeanne began sobbing in earnest and Davidson moved in closer to put his arm around her and comfort her. The team sat in an uncomfortable silence; none of them knew what to say. While things weren't as bleak as Tyler's mother was probably assuming right now, when you receive news such as she just did, things look very dark. House decided to retrieve his cup and get the coffee he never did have earlier this morning. As he began to walk to his office, he became aware of Lydia speaking.
"Mrs. Hunter, there have been tremendous strides in the treatment of both CP and autism in all its forms. I understand your reaction to the news, but please believe me, with the proper IEP in place to lay out a plan to help Tyler and support from you and your friends," Lydia said smiling at Davidson, "the progress he could make will amaze you. Now, I haven't seen Tyler, but from what I've been told, he has cognitive ability. He can make choices. That is a very important thing; it shows thinking on a higher level. From what I understand, he chooses to head butt his dad in the groin." For the first time since they saw Jeanne Hunter when she came into the hospital with her son, House and the team saw her smile; then the smile became a laugh.
"He head butts Malcolm ALL the time," she said still laughing. "All I have to do is whisper in Tyler's ear, 'Tell Daddy how much you love him,' and he runs at Malcolm with a full head of steam." Everyone in the room erupted into laughter at Jeanne's revelation, even House.
"I knew that kid was da bomb," he said. Davidson and Jeanne looked at each other.
"Jeff says that about him all the time," she noted. "Dr. House, do we have time to take a short break? I need to get some air." House nodded in the affirmative.
"As long as you're sure numbnuts isn't coming around anytime soon." Davidson couldn't stop laughing at House's nickname for Hunter as he looked at his watch.
"We're safe," he said. He and Jeanne started to walk to the door. "Oh, wait a minute," Davidson said. "Obviously I'll go over this with you in more detail and answer any questions you have, but let me tell you now basically what Malcolm's up to. Will you be alright for five minutes while I tell them about this?" he said to Jeanne. She nodded her head and they sat back down.
"I think I'd better grab a seat, too," House said. He looked at his watch. "What time do you have to get out of here by?" he asked Lydia.
"Eleven, maybe five after." He nodded. "I still have about twenty copies to make."
"Come have a seat; this ultimately affects you, too." He reached out for her hand which took her by surprise; House didn't care who was in the room to see it at that point. "The floor is yours," he said gesturing to Davidson.
"Malcolm has been planning this for a long time; he was just waiting for the right moment to put everything in motion. Basically, he's reviewing all the cases you've ever handled here at PPTH and he's eliminating those that have already won or settled suits against you. He's going to do that by reviewing the legal and financial files and cross referencing them. Then he's approaching all the patients that have never filed suit and is trying to convince them that you did wrong by them and they should allow him to file a suit on their behalf."
"He's taking a gamble that he can get those people to agree to let him file; House has helped far more people than he's hurt," said Wilson.
"Yes, but Malcolm has several things working in his favor: he's going for the 'pain and suffering' route; in these hard economic times, the idea of scoring some money with no outlay on their part will outweigh gratitude and lastly…" Davidson sighed. "It's Malcolm Hunter; some people will jump at the chance just to get their fifteen minutes of fame. He's playing the odds, but with all the patients Dr. House has treated, he'll get enough takers to accomplish his goal."
"Which is what exactly?" asked House.
"First, he already has a bunch of people who have said yes; he plans on filing the first ten 'intention to file suit' with the court on Friday; all he has to do is wait until Tuesday and he can file the suits themselves."
"And then the hospital is notified by the court and they are required to suspend me due to the number of suits that have been filed in such a short time span; the court also notifies the state licensing board and since I will have ten suits against me in less than three months, by law, they have to suspend my license for an indefinite period," concluded House
"That's ridiculous!" Lydia said, clearly upset. "It's obvious Hunter's out to get him."
"Yes, the board will review it, find it frivolous, throw it out and just as the board is about restore his license, Malcolm will file the next ten and start the process all over," Davidson said. "The real problem comes in number twenty-five."
"Automatic suspension for one year, no exceptions," House said. "I guess the legal department will be earning it's keep around here." Davidson looked at Wilson and Foreman, both of them sitting in shock.
"That bastard! That bastard!" Wilson yelled and jumped up from the table. House looked puzzled; he didn't understand Wilson's outburst.
"House, the financial problems came to light around here when you were in the coma. Some radical steps had to be taken to keep the hospital going," Foreman said. "One of the courtesies extended to the department heads at PPTH is the use of the legal department to defend against any lawsuits resulting from your work here at the hospital; you've used it many times. A vote was taken among the department heads, asking them to allow us to suspend that courtesy until further notice. When Hunter brings all these suits, you won't have use of legal here; you'll have to get your own lawyer."
"You mean lawyers, plural; with ten, twenty suits being filed, that's what will be needed." House stood up and started to pace. "All of them with a retainer, all of them charging three hundred bucks an hour."
"My God, Greg. Do you realize how much that will cost?" Lydia asked. House nodded.
"Enough to put me in a cardboard box."